A Pathetic Fanfiction
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: The RENT chracters discuss the latest fanfics they were in and their opnions of writers and each other and all such nonsense. rated T for a little language...pairings are whatevs. and as a disclaimer: I DO NOT SUPPORT MarkRoger!
1. MarkMaureen: The Pain Of It All

Roger sat on a large, squashy couch, flipping through a rumpled newspaper. Mimi leaned against him, her back pressed against his shoulder and her feet resting on the armrest at the end of the couch. She was painted her fingernails a pale lavender. Joanne, wearing half-moon reading glasses, flipped through a thick, floppy book entitled _Without You: Life, Love, REN T, And Other Random Crap. By Anthony Rapp_. Benny was using a crayon to fill in Maureen's motorcycle in his _Rent: The Movie_ coloring book. A fan blew random bits of paper around the room, briefly ruffling Mimi's hair and Roger's newspaper.

Mimi capped her nail polish, sighed, and looked at the digital clock shaped like a guitar hanging on the opposite wall. "Jesus, they've been gone for more than an hour. I mean, how long a fanfic can one angsty, hormonally-unstable teen write?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe _seven chapters!_" Roger said vehemently. He folded his newspaper by crunching it into a ball and throwing at Benny. It bounced off his head and fell to the floor.

"Hey!" cried Benny, looking up and glaring at Roger. "Just 'cause you're upset that Mark screws Maureen in this fic doesn't mean you should throw things at people who are working very hard to color within the lines!" Roger gave Benny the finger, but Benny had already gone back to coloring Angel's jacket.

"Roger, ignore that asshole," soothed Mimi, rubbing the rocker's neck. "Just because Mark and Maureen get to—wait! You're jealous of Mark?" Mimi paused and looked suspiciously at Roger, who was pouting.

"More like jealous of Maureen," muttered Joanne from across the room.

"Shut up! No one ever writes a fanfic where you screw anybody, anyways," Roger said nastily. Joanne put down her book and glared at him. There was a lot of glaring going on.

"Oh, there are tons of MoJo fics, _and _some of them are in the M section!"

"Big deal! I'm in the M section every other fic, and I don't only get any action from spastic, hyperactive drama queens," challenged Roger.

"Who's a spastic, hyperactive drama queen!" shouted Maureen as she walked through the door. Everyone in the room stared at her. She was dripping wet and wearing a scuba suit and flippers. Ignoring their stares, she flapped over to a beanbag and collapsed onto it, pulling off her diving mask with a sigh of relief.

"What the hell happened to you?" Mimi asked, her eyes wide.

"Oh, we went to the aquarium and Mark fell in to the shark tank, so I had to save him. I think I drowned though, or maybe a shark got me. Anyway," she shrugged, "the chapter's almost up, so they'll be coming any minute." As if on cue, Mark, Collins, and Angel burst into the room, laughing. Or at least, Angel and Collins were laughing. Mark was just as wet as Maureen, and also covered in seaweed. He flopped angrily onto the couch, where Roger and Mimi edged away from him. Angel and Collins chose the other, smaller sofa. Collins sank, still breathless with laughter, onto the end of the sofa and Angel sat on his lap. The two had to wait a minute to calm down. Whenever they looked at Mark, they started laughing again. Finally, when they had stopped, Joanne said, "Would you guys tell us what the fuck happened in that seriously messed up fic, 'cause Mark sure won't." Mark had crossed his arms and was glaring at the gay couple.

"Oh God, it was hilarious," said Angel, fighting another laugh. "The first three chapters were the worst Mark/Maureen fluff I have ever seen, and then some…ok, it started with you two," she gestured at Mimi and Roger, "supposedly sending all of us a letter from your honeymoon." They both groaned.

"I _hate_ marriage fics! They always get all boring and mushy, with us having 'second thoughts' and then 'being sure that the love in our hearts is strong enough' when we see each other on our wedding day," Mimi complained. Roger nodded.

"And you had committed suicide by dropping a toaster into your own bath. It was disturbingly graphic, by the way," Angel said to Joanne. Joanne sighed.

"So of course, " broke in Collins, "Mark had to go and comfort Maureen. Geez, it was pathetic…he bought her a goldfish named Jerry, and then he dropped it, and of course in an effort to save poor Jerry they both got on the floor and suddenly looked up into each other's eyes and…and…" Collins was overcome by a fit of laughter and couldn't talk. Angel picked up the train of thought.

"And there was this real slow moment, with like twenty memories of high school and the prom and buying a puppy who ran away and all that shit, and then they suddenly looked away and apologized. It was all so funny! Oh, and then they had to plan Joanne's funeral, and Mark finally started tonguing Maureen in front of the open coffin!" Roger rolled his eyes, and Mimi patted Mark's shoulder sympathetically, although she wiped her hand off on the couch after doing it. Joanne looked outraged.

"Yeah, but while we have to do all this crap, _they_ spend the entire time either making out, giving us 'be true to your heart' advice, or screwing!" Mark burst out, shooting a murderous look at Collins and Angel, who shrugged and grinned. Angel was about to say something else, but Mark plowed on. "I'm Mark! I shouldn't have to put up with that kind of crappy fanfic! What about all those Mark/Roger fics? People LOVE those! Why do they write this stuff when they can have a nice dirty M/R!" Mark stopped ranting long enough to register that everyone in the room was staring at him. He blinked, cleared his throat, then muttered, "Well, it sucked."

"So, what's with the seaweed and crap?" asked Mimi, who was looking disgustedly at some that had dropped off Mark. Angel, who was fiercely kissing Collins now, stopped long enough to say, "Oh, after they stopped making out, Mark decided to take Maureen on a date to the aquarium to make up for killing Jerry, and then he wanted to get her a piece of coral, but he slipped into the shark tank. So Maureen borrowed a wet suit and managed to save him before a shark attacked her, and it ended with Mark sobbing outside of the tank and blowing a kiss to Maureen as a shark bit off her arm, which was a little too detailed for my taste, might I add." Having said this, Angel turned her attention back to Collins. The rest of the RENT characters glanced at Mark, trying not to laugh or gag. Maureen giggled, and Makr glared in her direction. He shook himself angrily, flinging seaweed everywhere. Mimi squealed as a piece slapped against her leg, and Benny yelped when a particularly wet strip landed on the "I Should Tell You" page, even though he had just found the perfect crayon for Roger's hair.

The door suddenly opened, and Elphaba from the _Wicked_ dressing room down the hall stuck her head in. "Hey, they want some of you guys to get prepped for a new fic in the Romance section, rated T," she said, reading from a slip of paper. "It says 'ROGER, MARK, JOANNE, MIMI for UNTAMED DESIRE. Summary: Roger clings to Mimi, yet she and Mark find each other intensely desirable. Joanne laments her love for Roger, which she knows can never be.' Wow. You guys get the weirdest pairings."

"We know," every single RENT character answered simultaneously. Elphaba started to withdraw her head, but stopped and sniffed the air curiously. "What smells like seaweed?"

They all pointed to Mark, who waved gloomily. "Uh-huh," she said, and hastily closed the door. Maureen and Benny both stared at where her head had just been.

"WOW, that green chick is _hot!_" said Benny longingly.

"Oh God, I _know!_" exclaimed Maureen. She and Benny turned and stared at each other. Then they both shuddered and looked away.

Joanne stood up and stretched. "Another fic, another writer completely mangling my character," she said. "Oh well." She walked to the door and went out, leaving the door opened. Roger stood and took Mimi's hand, pulling her up. She was so terrified at the thought of being "intensely desirable" to the seaweed-covered Mark that she was completely frozen. Mark himself, grumbling about how wet his scarf was, stomped from the room, followed by Roger and Mimi.

Maureen reached over and picked up Mimi's bottle of nail polish. She took off her flipper, wiped her foot dry on the carpet, and started to paint her toenails. Benny was intent on finding just the right shade of green for the Range Rover on page 5. Collins and Angel were by now lying on top of each other on the couch, passionately making out. Peace once again reigned in the RENT fanfic dressing room.


	2. MarkJoanne Revisited

**I never meant to make this a multi-chapter fic, but this just appeared, and i figure what the hell. if you like it, i will continue. if not, blah.**

Since our last trip to the RENT dressing room, the characters inside had changed a bit. Angel was alternately brushing her wig and trying out different colors of lipstick. Maureen was lying on the floor, thumbing through a magazine with a picture of a blond man and a Latina woman embracing on the cover. Benny, having a slightly anal-retentive need to color everything perfectly, was still working on his _Rent: The Movie_ coloring book. He was doing the "Goodbye Love" page, and Mimi's coat was driving him crazy.

"Hey Angel, do you think I'm 'shallow, melodramatic, and energetic'?" Maureen asked, turning over onto her stomach and gazing up at the drag queen on the couch.

"Um…honey, why do you want to know?"

"Well, this quiz I took says that I am, and also that I'm 'inconsiderate, headstrong, and viv…vivacious'. Ooh, vivacious sounds good. But c'mon, I'm not really _shallow_, am I?" Angel shifted uncomfortably.

"Not…all the time…" Maureen shrugged and went back to her magazine. Angel, relieved that she hadn't sparked another hissy fit, picked up her brush again. Benny growled as his crayon slipped a little, and the sleeve of Mimi's coat blurred at the lines.

"Oh god," gasped Mimi as she stumbled in the door. She was dressed in a black bikini top and shiny blue sparkle pants. Collapsing onto the couch, she closed her eyes and sighed, her head lolling wearily.

"Girl, what's your problem?" asked Angel, putting down her brush and shaking her wig out. Mimi groaned and turned her head to look at Angel.

"I have been in _so_ many fics that it's not even funny. I'm freaking _tired_, don't the writers get it? Plus, my mouth is numb because I've had to make out with Roger, Mark, and god knows how many OCs in the last couple hours! Oh, and some idiot got my movie costume and my stage costume mixed up, so now I'm half-blue and half-topless!" She groaned again. Angel rolled her eyes.

"Honey, be happy you _have_ fics to be in. The last fic I was in was K+ with nothing more than hugging and cheek kissing. Everyone cries at my death scene in the movie and the musical, but do they actually write fics about me? No! _And_ I get forced into the worst clothes you can imagine, I'm not kidding." Mimi didn't argue. She had seen Angel's ensemble in most fics.

"Hey, people might not write about you much, but you're the universal 'favorite character'! I'm just a bitch who gets to screw random people when writers need drama!" Maureen raised herself onto her elbows and glared at Angel, who rolled her eyes again.

"Maureen, that's your favorite thing to do," Mimi pointed out. Maureen shrugged and mumbled, "It still hurts."

"Hey, what about me? I have three uses in life: sleep with Mimi for conflict, talk about sleeping with Mimi for conflict, or ask for the rent and _then_ sleep with Mimi for conflict! I have a soul too, you know!" Like always, everyone ignored Benny.

"Anyway, where are the guys? Is it possible that there's a fic going on without any girls?" Mimi glanced around, as though hoping to see Mark or Roger or Collins lurking in a corner.

"Hey, what about Joanne? She's not here either." Angel shrugged and capped a lipstick.

"I know that Mark and Roger have some T-rated Mark/Roger going, but I'm not sure about Collins or Joanne." Maureen rolled her eyes.

"I can't believe Collins is in a fic and I'm not. I mean, come on. No one _ever_ reads fics about him," Maureen complained. Angel glared at her.

"That's not true!"

"Compare Collins stories to Maureen ones, hmm?" Maureen pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Angel was just about to snap back when Joanne walked in the door, hurriedly buttoning the top button on her shirt.

"Jo! Where the hell have you been?" asked Mimi. Joanne jumped as though Mimi had yelled at her.

"Um…nowhere. Not doing much, you know, just…um…nothing." Angel frowned as she watched Joanne nervously sit on the edge of a chair. Mimi was also looking a little suspicious. Maureen, however, was not paying attention. She had turned back to her magazine.

"Were you in a fic or something?" asked Angel. Joanne shrugged.

"I might have been…we all are, you know, because we're fanfic characters…right?" Angel sighed.

"Joanne, I keep telling you, stay out of Collins' pot stash. You _know_ it makes you freaky." Joanne shook her head so fast it was a blur.

"I did not go into his pot stash! I just…I dunno, I'm jumpy." Joanne's eyes darted around the room, lingering every so often on Maureen. Angel and Mimi looked confusedly at each other for a moment. Then understanding dawned on their faces, and Mimi groaned. Angel looked back at Joanne with one eyebrow raised.

"Which of the guys did you have to fuck this time?" Maureen looked up so fast it was a miracle she didn't get whiplash.

"Who's talking about fucking? Pookie?" Joanne cowered under Maureen's glare.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about!" Joanne exclaimed. For a moment, she kept up the indignant look. Then her shoulders slumped and she sighed.

"It was a stupid Mark/Joanne fic. God, I hate them…" Maureen squealed in fury. Angel and Mimi rolled their eyes, while Benny finally looked up from the "Today 4 U" page.

"You had to fuck Mark _again?_ I hate that! It's bad enough that I sleep with everyone and his brother or sister, but when they pair you with Mark, they go too far!" Maureen leapt up and ran out the door, slamming it behind her. Angel rolled her eyes, and Joanne buried her head in her hands.

"I can't believe how worked up she gets about these things. It's ridiculous; she fucks the rest of us and all the characters from other fics _all_ the time, but they pair you with Mark and she blows a fuse," Mimi said. Angel snorted.

"Blow a fuse? Mimi, it's ten to one she'll make some eleven year old writer cry and then beat the shit out of Mark. It's a little more than blowing a fuse." Joanne moaned.

"Jesus. The thing is, I actually don't like Mark/Joanne that much. I mean…" she looked nervously at the door, then leaned in towards the two on the couch. "Mark's a nice guy and everything…but doing those fics with him—"

"Hon, it's not a secret that Mark sucks at sex and every other thing those horny writers make us do with him. It's like, come _on_, people! Just because he's got a scarf and he's the color of milk doesn't mean it's at all pleasant to get into bed with him!" Mimi complained. Angel nodded.

"You couldn't have said it better, girl. And there aren't half as many Mark/Mimi fics as there are Mark/Angels." Angel shuddered. "It's bad enough when the pinheads make me straight, but Mark? The poor little guy is just not that good, and that's a fact. I just plain prefer Collins over all the rest of you, if you want the truth." Mimi sighed.

"Lucky. You actually like your canon pairing. I mean, Roger can be nice and all, but…he's so—"

"So what?" asked Roger as he walked in the door.

**The crazy thing is, there are more Mark/Mimi fics that Mark/Angel ones. I checked! but oh well. I'm sorry, but Mark really doesn't seem like he'd be that great...it's just my thoughts. i love that little Markypoo, we all know that.**


	3. Movie And Musical: Past And Present

**i am udpating this! yay! and if you don't get a reference in this, just check the note at the bottom.**

"Oh! Roger! Um…so…nice to see you," Mimi stammered. Angel rolled her eyes.

"What's up, Roger?" she asked. He sighed and leaned on the wall, scratching his neck.

"I just got out of the weirdest fic…you know when little kids insert themselves into fics and then make out with me or Maureen or whoever until their parents catch them writing? Well, I had one of those. A guy. A twelve year old guy. A twelve year old guy with—" He winced. "—hormone insecurity."

"Ooch," winced everyone else. Joanne shrugged.

"At least he wasn't Mark." Roger half-laughed.

"Yeah, there's always that. At least he's not Mark. Hey, speaking of Mark…" He drew a rolled-up piece of pink paper out of his pocket and tossed it to Angel. She caught it and unrolled it tentatively. She read the few lines on it, then groaned. Mimi leaned over her shoulder and read the note aloud.

"MARK, ANGEL, JOANNE, MAUREEN for NEW BEGINNINGS. Summary: As a new couple, Mark and Angel seek Joanne and Maureen's help to understand their relationship. Rated T for language and touchy-feely stuff. Collins bashing, not for CollinsAngel shippers." Mimi patted Angel sympathetically on the shoulder. "It's okay, hon. It's only…um, six chapters." Angel looked pale. She buried her face in her hands.

"I can't do it, I can't do another Mark/Angel fic, I just can't..." she moaned. Joanne laughed slightly.

"At least Maureen will be happy that it's a MoJo fic and not Mark/Joanne. Damn, Mark's been busy today. Has anyone seen him outside of a fic at _all_?" Roger shook his head.

"He spent all morning screwing Meg Giry and random chorus girls in that Phantom of the Opera crossover. That Raoul guy is so gay, it's not even funny…why Christine doesn't dump him on his ass and just hook up with the Phantom is a mystery to me." Mimi glared.

"They're cute together!" Angel sighed and stood up, brushing down the front of her shirt.

"Jo, we have to go. If I don't leave now, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from hiding under the couch." Joanne nodded and went out the door, followed by a hangdog Angel. Roger took her place on the couch.

"Alone at last," he said in a low voice. Mimi rolled her eyes.

"That's Angel's line," she reminded him. Roger frowned.

"From what fic?"

"From the play, you idiot. God, I can hardly remember the thing now myself," Mimi said sadly. Roger shrugged.

"What do you expect? The movie came out on DVD and squished the play into the ground. Now my hair is only short in fics written by old fogies who're mad that 'Christmas Bells' was left out of the movie. And even they're forgetting the play. I mean, how long has it been since you weren't a in a fic MaureenJoanne that mentioned Maureen and Joanne's engagement party? Or a New year's fic that didn't use Angel's really long, swishy Pussy Galore wig, instead of the short one?" he asked with one eyebrow raised. Mimi sighed.

"We'll always have the memories. And anyway, we _are_ alone now…" Roger grinned and pulled her into his lap.

Just then, Benny said angrily, "Hey! I _am_ still here, you know!" The two of them ignored him. Benny ground his teeth together and then glared up at the author. Said author loomed overhead, contentedly drinking a soda.

"Why do they not notice me? WHY DOES NO ONE EVER NOTICE ME??!!" The author sighed and patted Benny on the head.

"Silly Benny. They never notice you because you're a mean character. You're grouchy and you make them pay rent, so they just forget about you in the grand scheme of things. Plus, all us writers can't use you for any happy fluff fics, so you're pretty useless. Now go back to the coloring book." The author smiled and pushed Benny back towards his book. Benny humphed.

"Can I at least leave so that I don't have to watch that?" he asked, motioning at Mimi and Roger. The author sighed.

"Fine. Go molest the Harry Potter people; I'm fed up with them anyway. The last book depressed me…" The author lapsed into a moody silence as she pondered the exact meaning of the word "Animagus" and Benny slipped away.

It was a little while before anyone else entered the RENT dressing room. When the door opened again, it was Collins, rubbing his face with a paper towel that on closer inspection proved to be a page from the Wicked Grimmerie. He seemed to be wiping nail polish off his nose. Roger and Mimi disentangled their lips long enough to realize he was there and greet him.

"Hey, Collins. Fluff fic?" Roger asked, spying the nail polish. Collins laughed dryly.

"I think you know these fics all too well, Rog. However, no, it wasn't an Angel or Mark or whatever fluff fic this time. Those crazy-ass monkeys from the Wicked guys went berserk and started flinging stuff from their dressing room at me. The mail polish bottle just sorta exploded." He shrugged ruefully and wiped at his nose again. "I figured they might as well lend me something to clean up with." He held up the page. Mimi and Roger grinned.

"What kind of fic have you been in, then?" Collins went and sat in Benny's vacated chair.

"Nothing big, just a little narrative about Angel and all. Not badly written, for once. Speaking of Angel, where is she? And where's everyone else as well?"

"Doing a Mark/Angel fic," Mimi told him. Collins ground his teeth together.

"I hate those. And hasn't Mark been screwing since this morning? The least they could do is give the little guy a break." He crossed his arms. Mimi smiled.

"I think you two are so cute. After all, you are the only canon pairing who like each other for more than just…well, you know." To demonstrate what she meant Roger buried his face in her neck. Collins rolled his eyes and looked away.

"That's because we actually take the time to talk sometimes. It's not all tonsil hockey. Mostly, but not all. That's the thing with both of you." Mimi giggled and squirmed, all the while making sure that Roger was in no way impeded in his activities.

"We do talk…we just don't care about what we say." And with that, she turned her attention Roger. Collins groaned and glanced at Benny's abandoned coloring book.

"I'm not that desperate for something to do," he muttered. But after a few moments of listening to the slurping sounds coming from the couch, Collins shrugged and said to himself, "Ok, I was lying." He picked up a green crayon and started on the torso of Angel's shirt in the La Vie Boheme scene.

**weeeee! anyhoodle, reference for those who might possibly not know: the Grimmerie is a magical spell-book from Wicked. just so y'all know. and for an added bonus, here is a tidbit. mentioning the word "Animagus" and the last Harry Potter book is significant to happenings in said book, more specifically Dumbledore's wellfare.**

**see if you can get it.**


	4. The Utter Horror Of MarkAngel

**A/N: **I haven't updated this in a while, but it's fun as hell! I absolutely HATE MarkAngel, and for those of you who think otherwise, I also don't like MarkRoger. AT ALL!

* * *

"I'm going to kill myself. Honestly. I'm going to throw myself over the edge of a cliff and have DONE with it!" fumed Mark as he stormed into the dressing room. Angel followed him, an ice pack clamped to her temple. Mimi and Roger split apart like two amoebas, while Collins looked up from his coloring book. Mark began to pace fervently, his glasses bouncing on his face. Angel wearily collapsed on the sofa beside Mimi. 

"Mark, it was the author's first RENT fic, cut her some slack," Angel sighed, shifting the ice an inch to the right. Mark ignored her and continued to circuit the room, his hands strangling the air in agitation.

"No, I am not going to cut her some slack! That little bitch just put me through the worst nine chapters of my life! The WORST! I bet her—OW!" Mark yowled in pain and hopped on one foot, wrapping his hands around the soon-to-be bruise on his shin. The leg of the table he had whacked it on wobbled dangerously, but stayed erect. Everyone winced and struggled to hold back laughter.

"What exactly was wrong with this fic, pray tell?" Collins asked, leaving his chair to sit on the couch armrest beside Angel. She ground her teeth together and pressed the ice pack harder into her scalp.

"Well, hmmm...it's really hard to say. One possibility could be the fucking telephone booth that the author crammed us into for two chapters straight where we—surprise, surprise—had to make out pretty much nonstop. Or it could be the therapy sessions with Maureen and Joanne where we had a 'circle-of-sharing.' And let's not forget that this particular author was convinced that I wore ballroom gowns 24/7...or at least dresses with consistency as such. Get the picture?" Collins raised his eyebrows and putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Mimi nodded at Mark, who had limped over to Collins' vacated chair and was gingerly sitting down.

"And what about you? What were the worst parts?" she asked him curiously. Mark groaned and leaned back in the chair, one hand massaging his bruised shin.

"Most of what Angel said, and then some. I bought Angel a fucking kitten! I'm allergic to cats!" Mark was starting to turn red again. Collins squeezed Angel's shoulder and held back laughter. Mark looked like he was about to start ranting again, but he just strangled the air a little more and gnashed his teeth. Roger rolled his eyes and pulled Mimi closer to him.

"Well, at least it's behind you."

"Yeah," Angel sighed, lowering the ice pack and tentatively feeling her skull for sore spots. "At least it's behind me."

"Hey, Angel," Mimi said after a moment. "I've been wondering…you know those fics where you go on and on about Collins and how great he is and usually describe fucking him in some abstract, meaningful way?"

Angel sighed again and replaced the ice pack, giving Mimi a rather condescending look. "Yes, Mimi, I know the fics."

"What about them?" Collins asked, frowning. Mimi smiled.

"I did happen to be speaking to Angel, you know."

"Mimi, you just said it yourself; I'm usually the sole subject of those fics. I think you're pretty much talking to me too."

"He has a point," Roger cut in.

"Whatever," Mimi huffed, waving the topic away. "_Anyways_, I've been meaning to ask you…how come you're ALWAYS one the following: a rape victim—" Mimi ticked off each item on her purple-painted fingertips as she said it.

"—a rape victim, an ex-prostitute, a sexually-repressed psycho, or someone who's been on the bad end of a giant, terrible gay-beating? Am I missing something?" Mimi asked, her last finger still outstretched. Mark held up one hand.

"You forgot a sexually-harassed/abused-as-a-kid sob story."

"Thanks, there's that too," Mimi said, letting her hands slip back around Roger's neck. She looked over at Angel, who was rolling her eyes.

"So? How have so many writers gotten this weird collective thingy about you? C'mon, it does pop up a _lot_."

"Yeah, I've had to help you sort through your troubled feelings and memories at least fifty times," Collins reminded the drag queen. Angel nodded thoughtfully.

"Very true."

"And we usually have to deal with your mood swings and crying fits in open public settings," Roger said. Angel nodded again.

"Also true."

"Don't forget—"

"Mark, I get the point, all right?" Angel interrupted, glaring at Mark. She crossed her legs and shrugged, her forehead wrinkling in thought.

"I don't know…maybe because I'm so bouncy all the time. They decide that no one could possibly be happy _all_ the time, so they make up a rape story or a mugging story or a prostitution story, all for the purpose of depressing the hell out of me and everyone I talk to."

"Amen," Roger added. Mimi poked him in the chest and considered what Angel had said.

"I guess you're right…I mean, God forbid I have enough angst going, what with Roger and the smack and Benny and being a stripper and having incredibly well-toned leg muscles..."

"Poor you," Mark said sarcastically. Angel smiled and leaned over to tap Mimi on the thigh.

"You might have some pretty legs, honey, but I have the monopoly. I mean, come _on_."

"I can vouch for that," Collins chimed in. Angel grinned and elbowed him.

"Shut up, you."

"Well, every other fic I'm doing _something_ to you where I get a pretty good view and/or feel of those things, and I have to admit—"

"Oh, Collins, before I forget," Roger spoke up suddenly. "You know that CollinsRoger fic? The one where I get drunk after Mimi dies, we fuck each other, and then you come back and tell me and I try to kill you?" Collins winced, as though thinking of this fic was physically painfully.

"Yeah, what about that thing?"

"I want you to know that at no point have I actually enjoyed any of that. At all. Ever."

"Ah, welcome to the brotherhood, Roggie," Angel cooed, patting his knee. Mimi whirled to face her boyfriend, nearly whacking him in the face with her hair.

"What? You really _are_ gay? God, Roger you are such a—"

"Wait, wait, what the hell are you talking about?!" Roger exploded. "I said I _didn't_ like that!"

"Which is code for _I loved it and now need to come to terms with which sex I really prefer to fuck_," Collins told him, hiding his smile. Roger gritted his teeth and threw a couch pillow at Collins.

"So how 'bout you, huh? S'pose you liked it well enough?" he asked, glaring at Collins. Collins rolled his eyes and put his hand on Angel's shoulder.

"Nah, not really. You're better in bed than Mark, but who isn't? Personally, I just prefer Angel."

"Aw, thanks honey. I prefer you too."

"For god's sake, you two are freakish. Aren't they, Ma—Mark?" Mimi turned to look at Mark, stopped, and smiled. The blonde had slumped in his chair, his head lolling to the side as he slept.

"Oh, he's so cute when he's sleeping," she cooed. Collins smiled.

"I'm not surprised. Fat as I can tell, that boy's been running from fic to fic for the last four hours. It's no wonder he's so out of it."

"Well, let him sleep," Angel said. "Least it means I'm not going to have to get in another god forsaken telephone booth with him."

"Until the next fic, that is," Roger pointed out. Angel closed her eyes and leaned back.

"Great. Until the next fic. Thanks, Rog."

* * *

Poor, poor Angel... 


	5. MoJo With Kids At Its Worst

**A/N: **The topic of persucution in this chapter is from a review suggestion that I make fun of MoJo with kids. Read it and the A/N at the bottom. Those who know my previous work...laugh all you want.

* * *

"GAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Hi, Maureen," Collins said, causally jumping out of the way as Maureen shot into the dressing room, heading straight for the couch. She shoved Mimi and Roger to the side roughly, grabbed a pillow, and jammed it against her face. Then she screamed again, only this time it was muffled by the pillow.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…"

"God, Maureen, calm down," said Joanne, wearily leaning against the door frame. Angel quickly scooted off the couch and went over to join her, which gave Maureen plenty of room to start spazzing. She flopped onto the couch, curled up in a ball, and continued to scream at the top of her lungs into the pillow. Mimi and Roger inched as far away as they could. Mark, meanwhile, was hyperventilating after being awoken by Maureen's initial screech.

"What the hell is her problem?" Angel asked, getting up and sitting down again in a chair that was a safe distance away from Maureen. Joanne ground her teeth together and sighed.

"You know the last fic we were in? The MarkAngel one?"

"Yes. Skip it," Angel snapped. Joanne shrugged.

"Okay. Well, after that we got a fic assignment…for one of those really long ones, like thirty chapters long."

"Oooch," winced Collins. Mimi, deciding that Maureen was getting a little too worked up, got off Roger's lap and went to sit cross-legged by Angel's feet. Maureen twitched and continued screaming.

"Yeah, and anyway," Joanne continued, "the summary was all mystery, suspense, you know, not saying what exactly happens. So we went to check out the latest chapters and viola! A—"

"I'M PREGNANT! I HAVE A FUCKING KID! IT'S NOT RIGHT! BLASPHEMY! BETRAYAL! EEEEEEVIL!" Maureen screeched, falling off the couch and pounding the ground with her fist. Roger, now trapped on the couch with Maureen lying in his exit path, drew his feet up off the ground and away from her. Mark scooted his chair in the opposite direction of the drama queen. By now, everyone was pretty much pressed up against the far edges of the room while Maureen freaked out in the middle.

"Someone wanna smother her or something?" Collins shouted over the shrieking. No one took him up on that particular offer, but they did get some relief when Maureen ran out of breath and uncurled, still clutching her pillow and panting.

"Ok…easy, Maureen, just tell us what happened…" Angel said, cautiously making her way over to her. Maureen glared and drew her knees up against her chest, throwing the pillow at Mark. It hit him in the head.

"Ow! Jesus, Maureen, watch it!"

"Shut up, Mark," hissed Roger, who'd clambered off the couch as soon as Maureen calmed down. Angel knelt beside her and gently got her into a sitting position against the back of the couch.

"Now tell us very slowly…what happened?"

"I had two kids…twins…I HATE having kids, why can't they just leave me alone?" Maureen moaned, rocking back and forth. Convinced that she probably wasn't going to spaz out again, the others slowly started making their way back towards the center of the room (all except Collins and Mark, who'd slipped out to escape Maureen and to steal some wine from the Jesus Christ Superstar people).

"It happens all the time…why can't _you_ two have kids? Or you and Collins?" whined Maureen, pointing first at Roger and Mimi, then at Angel. Angel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Honey, you need a reality check. We've all been forced to have kids. Have you not read the several million adoption stories that I feature in out there? Not to mention the faux-impregnation ones, which, I'm sorry, are just nasty." Angel looked like she was going to get worked up herself, so Mimi hurriedly cut her off.

"Don't forget that we have more kid stories than all of you put together! Just because we're straight, people assume we're too dumb to use condoms and we end up with a little bundle of hell. Right, Roger? Roger?" Mimi spun around, looking for the blonde rocker. Apparently, he'd felt the urge to join Mark and Collins.

"Men," she grumbled, grinding her teeth. Angel rolled her eyes and got on the couch from off the floor, brushing strands of her wig back from her face. Joanne collapsed into Benny/Collins's chair and looked vaguely at the coloring book.

"Hey…do you guys know if Benny or Collins would mind if I—"

"Help yourself," Mimi groaned. Joanne happily began to color in Roger's guitar. Maureen sighed and sprawled out flat on the floor, throwing her hair over Angel's feet.

"I don't know…they always leave out the bad parts of babies and go with the lovely Kodak moments. It's annoying as hell…_and_ I have to deal with being pregnant! It's like the writers are trying to make it all hard for me…" Mimi, Joanne, and Angel were this close to strangling her, but pure knowledge of how boring the fics would be without her kept them back. After all, a fic without Maureen is like a fic without…Maureen.

"You know what's the worst thing in those kiddie fics you guys do?" Mimi said thoughtfully. Joanne shot her a condescending look.

"No. What, pray tell?"

"The way the writers have you two make up and lead a wonderful happy life together as you raise the kids, instead of having the non-pregnant one dump the mama flat on her ass like you know you both would. It's ridiculous; neither of you is anywhere _near_ that understanding."

"Gee, thanks, Mimi," Maureen growled. Angel rolled her eyes.

"You know she's right, Maureen. There's this nominally stupid fic…can't remember the name, but I know it's pretty damn long and Mimi and I were in it. But anyway, you got pregnant in that and it took Joanne maybe three chapters to forgive you. And _then_ you had the baby while I was sick and it turned out to be twins and oh my goodness, everything was perfect and happydoodles until, yes, I died. And even now, it's still all happy and perky! That fic drives me up the wall, and it's not even about me!" Angel exploded, practically breaking Maureen's skull by kicking her feet in fury. Luckily, she just mussed her hair.

"Are you done now?" Mimi asked skeptically. Angel took a deep breath and nodded. Joanne turned the page and began working on Mark's sweater.

"I think I know that fic," she mused as she colored. "Not the worst of them all, but you're right, annoying as hell. The author just skips all the crappy stuff, it's insane; for instance, we never change a diaper. God!"

"And why is that a bad thing?" Mimi wondered aloud. Maureen coughed.

"It's not. Shut up, Joanne."

"Well, you have to think about—" Angel began. But they never found what they had to think about, because right then the Phantom stuck his head into the room, so flustered that his mask was almost falling off his face and he hardly noticed.

"Come quickly! There is an emergency!" he cried, singing every note flat. They all exchanged glances; movie Phantom, all right.

"What is it now?" Mimi asked, not bothering to stand up. The Phantom glared at her, now adjusting his mask.

"Your idiot guitar player and the other two are fighting with the Cats! They are yelling about animal rights and it is threatening to disturb the green woman from the witchy show. Do you wish to have them turned into monkeys with wings?"

"Oh God, they do this to us on purpose," Angel groaned, pulling Mimi off the couch. "C'mon, you two."

"Nope," Maureen smirked. "They're your boyfriends, I'm staying here."

"It's your ass that's going to get kicked if you don't get over here," Angel threatened, pausing at the door. Maureen groaned and got up, eyeing Angel's platform shoes warily. The Phantom fwipped his cape and disappeared.

"Showoff," Mimi muttered as she followed Maureen and Angel out into the hall, where indeed you could hear much meowing and hissing and cries of "Not the face! _Not the face!_" Joanne shook her head and continued to color.

Benny, meanwhile, had actually been sitting in the room all the time, gagged with duct tape. As he was always was with most fanfics.

* * *

I'm sure that a lot of you know the fic that I have Angel complaining about is my own. It's called "Maureen and her Problem" and it's the strangest fic I've ever written. Quite honestly, making fun of yourself is very good for the ego. And yes: the Phantom from the movie is flat almost every note. It's the truth. 


	6. Flames

**A/N: ** Well, the mockery continues. This is the Flames chapter, and yes, it's a two-parter. I hate flames, and now i my time to STRIKE BACK!

* * *

No one saw it coming. No one could have stopped it. Luckily, they survived. Mostly, anyway.

Maureen was the first one to get hit. She was doing a little fluff piece involving bubblegum and feathers when she first felt the heat waves descend. The air grew hot as hell within moments, and Maureen could hear the crackle of fire. She made a desperate run for the exit, but before she could get out…the Flames had her.

It was Mark and Collins who rescued her. They were doing an angsty MarkCollins in the fic next door and they heard her screaming. It took only a moment to understand what was happening, and the Flames hadn't been burning for more than a few seconds when they realized just how much danger she was in.

Fortunately for Maureen, the Flames weren't too high; after all, the fic wasn't long enough for a real inferno. Still, she had suffered a vicious sun burn by the time Mark and Collins pulled her out of the fic. Collins patted out the lingering spots of Flame on her clothes as Mark ran to get someone from the ER fandom. Maureen was lucky she had all her hair; many a fic character had gone bald from an encounter with Flames.

That was only the beginning. Minutes after the first attack, the Flames struck again, this time in a RogerMimi. The two barely managed to untangle themselves from the sheets and flee the fic before the entire thing was consumed by fire. They watched in terror as the bed that they had been making out in moments ago was charred to a cinder and Mimi's loft disappeared into the Flames. By the time Elphaba and Glinda ran up to make sure they were all right, the fic had been burned to the ground.

And then it really began. AngelCollins, MoJo, and MarkOCs were the next to go. The terrified characters ran from fic to fic as the Flames chased them like a ravenous beast, swallowing up everything in their path. Fluff caught fire especially fast; Mark and a newer OC named Patricia were nearly toasted quite nicely as they snuggled on a park bench. Angst fics were also especially flammable. Joanne was in the middle of cutting herself when the Flames began devouring the door to the bathroom.

The poor RENT characters congregated in the Misc fanfiction common room. This was the place that was open to all fanfic characters, not private like dressing rooms. Other fic characters gathered around them worriedly, trying to console the RENT cast. There were even some people from the TV Show and Book categories there. After all, a surge of Flames this big was a serious matter.

"There, there, young lady, it'll be all right," Dumbledore said comfortingly to Mimi, who was curled up on a ratty brown couch, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering. She had barely escaped from a multi-chapter fic about someone's adoption or other, and even then the Flames had clipped the heel of her shoe. She was pretty shaken.

Still, Mimi was nothing compared to Roger. The poor boy had been sandwiched between a MoJo smut fic and a Buffy The Vampire Slayer crossover. Unwilling to venture into either, he had nearly been caught full in the face by the blast. Angel, who had been escaping from a preRENT sexual harassment fic, snagged him on the way out and dragged him through the crossover. It was unclear whether that or the Flames were what was really keeping him in the fetal position.

"Everyone okay? You guys all right?" panted Mark, pushing his glasses up his sweaty nose. Angel pushed him down into a chair before he collapsed. She had changed out of drag as soon as she had cleared the most recent wave of Flames. Her clothes were too precious to risk singe marks.

"I think we all got out okay. Collins, how's Maureen doing?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. Collins shrugged.

"Don't ask me. The Grey's Anatomy and the ER people are taking care of her," he told her, pointing over at a small cluster of people in varying shades of green hospital scrubs. They'd put Maureen on a body-length sofa and clustered around her, muttering things like, "Mexaminthanotalteah, STAT!" and "I need a twelve-by-nine in here, STAT!" They said "STAT!" a lot. Despite the "STAT!"s, Maureen looked pretty miserable. She was a lovely shade of red, and each little movement made her wince, which in turn made her wince again, and the domino effect continued.

"How horrible! You must all be traumatized," sympathized Maria Von Trapp. She turned to smile brightly at the group of children behind her. "Come, children! Let's help them feel better with a song! Do re mi—"

"Someone shut them up, _please_," Joanne growled, rubbing her temples. She'd gotten out all right; the Flames were still mercilessly beating at her law firm's building when she slipped out the side door. However, Joanne had never had a high Flame tolerance, and the last thing she could deal with was Maria and the Munchkins screeching in her ear. Fiyero quickly herded them over to the corner.

"Do we have any idea where they came from?" Mark asked, directing the question at everyone and anyone. The Phantom whirled his cape dramatically and trilled a B flat.

"Yes, Monsieur, I know where these accursed Flames sprang from! Behold; their creator is a foul author by the name of…DaFlaminator! Indeed, the monster is even now Flaming your category with the most insidious depravity!" the Phantom exploded dramatically. Collins, Angel, and Mark exchanged looks.

"Um, what?" Mark said. Elphaba sighed and stepped in.

"I think he means that this author, DaFlaminator, is going crazy on the RENT-flaming. I mean, they've pretty much flamed at least a sixth of the whole RENT grouping," she said warily, as though afraid they might attack for imparting this news. Angel turned to Collins, dumbfounded.

"But…but…that's almost 700 fics! Who would do something like that?"

"I don't know," Mimi whimpered, shivering again. Christine sympathetically patted her hand. Even Macavity looked like he felt sorry for the RENT characters.

At that moment, Collins noticed something. Or rather, the lack of something.

"Hey, anyone seen Benny?" he asked, twisting around to look for the yuppie douche-bag. A wave of worry slowly spread as everyone realized that Benny was nowhere to be found. Joanne anxiously wrung her hands.

"Could it be…could it be possible that the Flames got him?" she suggested timidly. Angel squared her jaw and shook her head.

"Benny's not the brightest light bulb in the chandelier—pardon me," she added, seeing the Phantom characters' faces, "but even he could get away from Flames if he had to. I just…I think he's hiding somewhere. Maybe he got scared."

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the fanfic characters, Angel was half right. But Benny wasn't hiding in fear. Oh, no. He sat perched at a keyboard, cackling fiendishly as he spread the wake of Flames.

"Yes…yes…now they can't ignore me!" he screeched, throwing his head back and laughing like a maniac. "Too long I have allowed those authors to forget me in favor of AngelCollins or MimiRoger or MARK! Mark, curse him, can't stop me now!" Benny giggled and zeroed in on an innocent little oneshot. With a shout of victory, he sent a Flame shooting towards it, incinerating the poor fic in seconds. As Benny Flamed on, the sound of hundreds of weeping authors began to fill the fanfiction universe. The RENT fandom was slowly being burned away, and there was nothing anyone could do.

* * *

Oh no! What shall we do? HELP!!!

stay tuned...


	7. Fed Up

**A/N: **Welp, my first update in AGES! I'm so sorry, but I've had a really full summer! Anyways, I should be able to update my major stories very soon. Thanks to all the people who reviewed and asked for updates, it really helps me sort out what I shoudl do first. Hope you're all having an awesome summer!

Oh, and is anyone else as excited as I am to see Adam and Anthony treadin' the boards again? I was honestly crying as I read an article about them. I just can't believe it, I love them and RENT so much...(waaaaaaaaaah fangirl)

* * *

"Whoa…what just happened?" Mimi said, looking slowly back and forth. She and all the other RENT fanfic characters were sitting around their dressing room, unburned and unruffled. At least, they were at first. As soon as the sudden change in scenery sank in, everyone jump as though a gun had gone off and stared around, trying to understand what had happened. Roger frowned and tentatively poked the arm of the couch.

"What are you doing?" Maureen asked, raising her intact and non-singed eyebrows.

"Trying to see if it's real or not," Roger muttered. Apparently satisfied that it was, he turned and poked Collins this time, very hard in the arm. Collins yelped and jumped away.

"Hey, man, watch it!"

"What happened to flames? Weren't we all just burned…or was that just me on that crappy Avenue Q pot?" Angel asked the room in general. Joanne shook her head and carefully got to her feet.

"No, there were definitely flames. The last thing I remember was someone asking where Benny was…and then everything went black and after a minute, it turned into this," she said, indicating the dressing room. Mark got up and went over to the door, his hand reaching for the knob. But before he could touch it, the door banged open and a flood of characters spilled into the room: Musicals, Books, Movies, and even a few Cartoons. Seeing as the RENT dressing room was not incredibly large, it was quite a tight fit. The RENT characters had to squeeze together at the back of the room as all their concerned fellows hit them with a barrage of questions.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Are you all okay?"

"Where'd the flames go?"

"Where's Benny?"

"SHUT UP!" Collins finally roared, an action that succeeded in silencing the majority of the multitude. Joanne held up her hands and addressed the crowd.

"We have no idea what's happening! All we know is that we don't seem to be flamed…and no, we don't know where Benny is!" she snapped at Raoul, who'd always shared the role of Unimportant Idiot with Benny and therefore had a sort of affection for him.

"How'd you get in here?" piped up Gretl Van Trapp. Maureen rolled her eyes.

"If we knew that, we'd—" Her sarcastic remark was cut short by a loud, echoing giggle. Everyone jumped as the giggle boomed around the room, deafening quite a people and actually scaring Fiyero to tears (he'd never really had a backbone to speak of).

"Oh no…not the writers!" Mimi shrieked as the giggles faded, only to return with strength at her words. When they had once again died away, a light, giggly voice happily addressed the pack of fanfic characters.

"Of course it's us, sillies! Who do you think got you out of all those nasty flames?" Angel's eyes widened, and she leaned over to Mark.

"Wait…the writers actually did something _helpful_ for once?" she whispered. Mark shrugged.

"There's a first time for everything…" he replied. The writers, who had thankfully not heard them, were now reminiscing about how wonderful the whole fucking world was and how happy the characters should be that they were safe and healthy and all that other crap.

"And Marky, you look so CUTE with your little scarf, I'm so glad it was burned up—"

"But how the hell did you save us?" Roger shouted, interrupting the writer who was speaking. There was a pause, then, sounding rather sulky, she replied.

"Well, we just rewrote the story! After all, you can write out those nasty old flames if you only have a keyboard and the power of teamwork, right girls?"

"Right!" chorused the other writers, several of whom sounded a little too masculine to be female. Angel scowled at the ceiling for lack of an actual person to scowl at.

"But…but where's Benny?" she asked. There was a confused silence…then:

"Who?" squeaked what sounded like an eleven-year-old. Angel opened to her mouth to clarify, but Maureen slammed a hand over her lips: Benny was definitely not worth another round of giggles.

"Anyways," went on the voice, "we had to write out those flames because they were just too darn annoying. After all, the author in charge of this fic didn't know how to go on and how silly was that! So we just wrote out the flames and made it all better!" From the sound of her voice, she was beaming. The other fanfic characters had all left by now, hurrying away to avoid the writers and their inane chatter. The poor, tortured RENT characters would have followed them happily…if the writers hadn't removed the doorknob.

"Okay, that's really great," said Collins wearily. "Now can you please open the door and let us get on with our miserable excuses for lives?"

"Oh, no!" said a high-pitched boy's voice indignantly. "I am _so_ not letting you guys get away. We have fics for all of you…and mine's rated M."

It was the magic word. Or rather, letter. With a roar of we're-not-gonna-take-it-anymore-fed-up-with-the-shit-run-for-the-hills frustration, the RENT characters stormed the door. It crashed open and they stumbled out into the hallway, sprinting for their lives towards the exit. The writers shrieked in anger, but the RENT characters had suffered so much abuse and mutilation of their once-beautiful story that a wall of solid brick could not have stopped them. Plowing out the EXIT door, they burst into the land of sunshine and joy known as The Fan Fiction Free Section of the Internet.

"C'mon, everyone! If we hurry, we can get to YouTube before all the good porno videos get removed!" Maureen shouted. And so, finally free from their prison of fan-ishness, the RENT characters galloped away, never to return.

Until the writers regrouped.


	8. Harry Potter: It Had To Happen

**A/N:** Okay, I'm guilty. But there's so much crap about the new Harry Potter book flying around, I just had to work it into this fic! And for those of you who haven't read it, there are SEMI-SPOILERS AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

By the way, this fic is probably not done. Expect a couple more chapters before it's really finished...yay!

* * *

It was yet another day in the RENT fanfic dressing room. Following the drama of the flames, the Big Escape, and recapturing of the poor characters, a special plaque had been added to the door that led inside. It read: TO BE TREATED WITH EXTREME NICENESS.

It was needed. The RENT characters had a greatly increased tendency to be crabby when interrupted in the middle of their downtime. Maureen was especially touchy, seeing as she'd been in the middle of a very gripping Youtube video of deep-sea crab fishing when the writers had snatched her and all the others back and deposited them firmly in the dressing room.

Right now, the room was relatively empty. Benny (who had awkwardly reappeared after the whole Flame incident) was off in one of his rare fics along with Mimi and Roger, Maureen and Mark were doing a preRENT fluff fic, and Collins was in the middle of an Angel-angst fic, which left Joanne and Angel herself together in the little dressing room. Angel was stretched out along the couch, flipping through a large, black, coffee-table book with white stenciled letters on the cover. Joanne was sprawled on the ground, stomach-down, casually working on a jigsaw puzzle. The box lay a few feet away: its finished picture portrayed a group of fifteen people in mismatched clothing sitting on a table with their arms around each other. Several of the people looked very familiar.

"Hey, Angel, can you just check under the couch? I think I'm missing a piece," Joanne asked, glancing up and frowning as she searched for the errant puzzle piece. Angel, her attention still mostly on the book, vaguely trailed her fingers through the narrow space between couch and floor. Feeling something hard and curved, she pulled it out and offered it to Joanne, who rolled her eyes.

"Angel, that's one of Roger's old guitar picks. C'mon, just look, it'll only take a second."

"All right, all right…" Angel sighed, setting the book aside and this time searching in earnest. Her fingers passed over what felt like a razor blade (April's), an old joint (from the stickiness of what was probably lipstick on the end, Maureen's), and…

"Euurgh!" Angel squealed, quickly withdrawing her fingers. Joanne looked towards her in surprise.

"What? Did you find it?"

"No," said Angel, grimacing in disgust. Using two fingers so as to actually touch as little of the object as possible, Angel reached down and fished out the offending item. Dangling from between her fingers was a fat toad, croaking in protest as he struggled to free his leg from Angel's grip. Joanne winced at the sight of him.

"Oh no…is that—?"

"Yes! Those Harry Potter idiots, they keep losing their damn animals…okay, that's it, I'm fed up with it!" Angel said loudly, getting up and shooting a glowering look at the amphibian between her fingers. Striding over to the door, she wrenched it open and went out into the hallways. After a moment, Joanne jumped up and followed her.

"What're you going to do?" asked Joanne as she tailed Angel through the Fanfiction halls. Other characters leapt out of their way as they approached: whether it was because of the recent incident concerning the RENT characters, the murderous look on Angel's face, or the toad wriggling slimily in her hand, Joanne didn't know. Whatever the reason, they had a very clear path all the way to the Book category.

The Harry Potter dressing room wasn't hard to find. The double-doors were about twice as long and tall as the RENT dressing room's single door, and they were made of attractive mahogany frames with small, ornate windows of clouded glass. Angel pursed her lips in irritation.

"British snobs, think they're royalty…how the hell do you get in?" she asked no in particular, searching the gigantic door for a handle. As the words left her mouth, the doors creaked open of their own accord. Joanne rolled her eyes. Always the showoffs, Book characters were: but it was common knowledge that the Harry Potter set was the worst.

Angel marched inside, Joanne following closely behind. Instead of a cramped room with sofas and a carpet like theirs, they found themselves in an airy, spacious living room, with settees and actual ottomans sitting in the middle of the Oriental-rug-covered floor. The walls were hung with stylish cloth draperies and number of frames that held, not paintings, but signed photos from random celebrities who had succumbed to the Harry Potter craze. An elegant ceiling fan whirred peacefully overhead. The whole place would have been completely insufferable if it hadn't been strewn with the little pink slips of paper that held the details of a new fic or chapter; they were everywhere, little piles whirling through the air as the ceiling fan directed a wave of air towards them. It was like an explosion of pink paper. Joanne had to squint to make out the group of figures huddled on a comfortable couch by the far wall.

"Hey, you! English wizard brats, I need to talk to you!" Angel said angrily, kicking her way through the piles of fic papers. Joanne watched with amusement as heads popped to look at Angel, their eyes bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion.

"Bloody hell, you can't honestly have _another_ one for us, that's thirteen this hour! _I can't take it anymore, I tell you! No more!_" The outburst came from a tall, red-headed boy who stood up to express his outrage, voice cracking as he shouted.

"I'm not here with a fic, you idiots, I'm here with your freaking toad!" Angel barked. The red-headed boy (Ross, Rod…Joanne couldn't quite remember his name) blinked in surprise, then frowned.

"Toad? What toad? Is this some writer thing? I am not getting into bed with Hermione and a toad, the traffic cone was bad enough—"

"Ew, that's disgusting!" squealed another red-head, this one a girl whose name, Ginny, Joanne recalled from a quick conversation more than a month previous. Raising one hand, Ginny waved at Angel, whose anger was obviously draining, even though she was fighting to keep it strong.

"That toad's way old, we haven't used it for ages, not even in the bloody books. Keep it if you want—"

"Why the hell would I want to keep a freaking toad?" Angel said, making a face. The toad croaked and squirmed. Joanne, who was watching the scene with mild interest, glanced towards the other Harry Potter characters. She recognized a few of them: Harry himself, his hair shaggy and his glasses drooping down his nose (not unlike Mark's after a long day of slash fics); the weird blonde kid with a funny medieval name, trying to stifle a yawn and take a sip of coffee at the same time; Hermy-own or whatever she was called, the girl with bushy brown hair and fluttering eyelids; Dusseldorf (that sounds right), his long white beard stained with coffee and covered in little scraps of pink paper; and Voldemort the Dark Guy, who seemed to have fallen asleep with his head on Hermy-own's shoulder.

"God, just drop it and leave, then! I'm so tired I can't think straight, I don't have time to care about some random toad from Book Two!" snapped the blonde kid, slopping coffee down his front. Angel, rolling her eyes, did just that: the toad fell and bounced once or twice before coming to a rest and, after a moment, burrowing into the mass of pink fic papers.

"Good riddance," Angel muttered, turning to leave. But Joanne, who was intrigued by the explosion of pink papers and the exhausted appearances of the usually sleek, snooty Harry Potter characters, waved at Angel to stop and trudged forward to the sofa that they were slumped on. It was semi-circular, curving around a small table that was strewn with coffee mugs and cigarette butts over a layer of more fic papers.

"Jeez…what's with the crash? You guys get a new slash pairing?" she asked, glancing around. The characters, who had been sleepily returning to their interrupted discussion, whirled around to stare at them. For the first time, they actually all looked awake.

"You mean…you mean you don't know about the book?" asked Harry in a voice of husky disbelief. Angel, who had unwillingly appeared at Joanne's side, rolled her eyes.

"In case you haven't noticed, we have our own lives to deal with, we don't follow everything in yours fanatically like _so many people_ must," she said sarcastically. The Harry Potter group stared at her.

"But…but they _do_ follow it fanatically. Haven't you noticed?" asked Hermy-own in surprise.

"Yeah, or did you think the people who painted scars on their foreheads and dressed up in rugby shirts and cardboard glasses were an exclusive class?" said Rod/Ross with sarcasm to rival Angel's. Joanne shrugged.

"Can't say I really noticed them before…but you guys have a new book? Is that why all this…?" she asked, trailing off as she realized the room spoke for itself. Dusseldorf sighed and adjusted his half-moon glasses, which were smeary and clouded.

"Let me put it this way…the whole dang fandom is writing overtime to explore every single possible plot thread in the final book. They have to pair Harry with everyone from Neville to…well, me, and they have to write all forms of smut available for Ron and Hermione, and Voldemort—wake up, you—" He whacked Voldemort on the arm; he sprang up, blinking stupidly. "Well, Voldemort here is doing so many preBooks fics that I don't think he can even remember the ending of Book Seven."

"Wow..." Angel said, raising her eyebrows and forgetting to be pissy. "You guys have it tough. I mean, we came out eleven years ago and they _still_ refuse to leave us alone!" Joanne nodded sagely. Ginny took a gulp of coffee and nodded.

"Yeah, well…wait a month or two—okay, maybe a year, but they'll calm down. There's a lull for right now, we've sent all the secondary main characters and the fillers to have a break…but we're stuck here, in case another surge comes…oh God, I can't take another GinnyDraco fic, I'm sorry, I just can't!" she suddenly wailed, struggling to get away from the blonde boy beside her. Draco flushed and nodded miserably.

"I know…but you can't blame them, they have to give me a love interest—"

"Well, if J.K. Whats-er-name had thought to _give_ you one—"

"Oh, don't start that again—"

"Um, we're gonna leave now," Joanne mumbled, grabbing Angel's arm and heading towards the door. None of the Harry Potter characters seemed to notice their absence, and as the fancy doors closed behind Angel and Joanne, they were all still arguing.

"Holy crap, I have to feel bad for them," Angel said, giving a low whistle. Joanne nodded.

"I mean, we had that big wave of new fics when the movie came out, and then there was a little around RENT10…but nothing like that. Did you see how tired they looked? How do they stand it?" she asked as they made their way back towards their own dressing room. Angel shrugged.

"Didn't really look they were standing it at all…ugh, did you see that Herminee girl's split ends? Ugly as hell, poor kid…" Joanne chuckled in agreement. The laughter died in her throat as they neared the RENT dressing room.

"Hey, Ang…do you hear shouting?" Angel frowned and cocked her head to listen.

"Now that you mention it…oh crap, I think it's—shit, it is!" Dashing forward, she flung the door to the RENT dressing room open. Mark, Mimi, and Roger were facing off inside, screaming so loudly their faces were turning red (in Mark's case, pink; his blood wasn't thick enough to make him red). Angel and Joanne ran in, braced for the worst.

"I WAS NOT SCREWING YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" Mark bellowed. Roger, who was now being blocked by Joanne, shouted back, "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU WERE OR NOT, JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU MEANT BY 'WHAT'S GOING ON, MIMI?', OR I SWEAR TO GOD—!"

"JESUS, ROGER, CHILL!" Mimi screeched, struggling to push Angel out her way. "HE DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING, YOU IDIOT!"

"Oy vey," Angel groaned as she held Mark back against the wall.


	9. Return Of Anthony And Adam: Oh, The Pain

Well, it's been AGES since I actually updated a fic...but here I am. Now, this is something I wrote way back when I first got the news about Adam and Anthony coming back. I have another update that's almost ready about the closing, but I really liked this one when I found it in my computer and I wanted to post it. So yes, I know it's very out of sync with modern times, but bear with me here.

* * *

Mark and Roger sat on opposite couches in the RENT fic dressing room. There was a still a certain level of animosity between them ever since Roger's somewhat unprovoked attack on Mark a while ago, and so the other characters had taken it upon themselves to keep the two separate until things calmed down. Part of this was total supervision by one or more of the other RENT characters when Mark and Roger were forced to be in the same room. Right now April was in charge: she straddled a chair and disinterestedly picked at the thick scabs on her wrists as Mark and Roger glowered at each other.

"Oh, shoot," April said glumly after perhaps thirty minutes of total silence, interrupted only by a tiny plop as each piece of scab fell to the ground. "Went too deep…either of you got any tissues?" she asked, holding up her wrist. It was now gushing blood from the newly opened cut. Roger rolled his eyes.

"God…how the hell did I end up dating you in the first place?"

"Oh, come on. Depressing to be around, brain capacity of a potato chip…you two were made for each other," snapped Mark. Roger opened his mouth to retort, but April cut him off.

"If neither of you can help me out, I think I'll go see if the Grey's Anatomy people can. I hear they're good with sick people…" And with that strikingly deep observation, April got up and trudged out of the room, blood dripping from her wrists and staining the carpet. Mark and Roger watched her go, both wearing an expression of utter disgust.

"Dude," said Mark a few seconds after the door swung shut behind her. "That was just wrong."

"Totally," Roger agreed, wrinkling his nose. Then his eyes widened as he realized that he'd actually agreed with Mark about something. Angry with himself, he cast around for something to help him ignore Mark. Catching sight of a new magazine, he snatched it up and began to flick through the pages. Mark rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, "Petty…" before stretching out on his couch and turning on his GameBoy. He was playing Rent: The Video Game and he was just beginning Level 4: Light Mimi's Candle Before Roger Gets Too Horny.

For a little while, the only sounds were Roger turning the pages of his magazine and the little beeps and chimes from Mark's GameBoy. Peace reigned in the RENT dressing room until, with a sudden shout, Roger nearly tore his magazine in half. Mark jumped about a mile in the air and angrily turned to see Roger staring almost maniacally at the page in front of him.

"Jesus, Roger, don't you have any consideration? If you're gonna scream, at leasy warn a guy before you break a nail," he snarled. Roger appeared not to have heard the remark: his eyes were frantically scanning the magazine, and his mouth was opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Slightly concerned, Mark leaned forward and set his GameBoy aside.

"Roger…Roger, what the hell's the matter?" Mark asked, this time a little nervously. Roger looked up now, and his face was very pale.

"Mark…Mark, look…look at it…" He shoved the magazine at Mark with shaking hands. The filmmaker took it and scanned the first paragraph. He didn't seem to find anything particularly alarming…until he glanced at the picture. Then he stiffened and began to speed-read, his face growing increasingly desperate as he took in the contents of the article. When he finished the first page, Mark looked up at Roger. The two of them stared, terrified, at each other.

"But…but if this is true…" Mark whispered. Roger nodded gravely.

"It has to be. And Mark…Mark, you know what this means…"

"What means what?" asked Maureen, skipping into the room. She was followed by Collins, who looked around with raised eyebrows.

"You're alone and not killing each other. I'm impressed," he mused aloud. Mark silently held out the magazine to Collins, who frowned and took it from him. He opened it to the marked page and began to read, his eyebrows getting higher and higher as he went on. Maureen looked over his shoulder, hanging onto his arm as she stood on tiptoe to view the magazine.

"Whoa…that's pretty cool," Maureen said as Collins finished the article. Walking over to Mark, she flopped down on the sofa and began to examine her fingernails. Collins shrugged and dropped the magazine in Roger's lap.

"So the original Broadway Mark and Roger are coming back for a while. So what? That doesn't really affect you two, does it?" he said with a slight frown. Mark shook his head slowly, looking somewhat shell-shocked. Roger shakily closed the magazine.

"You…you don't get it. This'll draw attention to our characters. And attention means attention from everyone, including fic writers. And when fic writers pay attention to both of us at the same time…"

"Slash. So much goddamn slash," Mark whispered hoarsely.

Collins and Maureen stared at him for about a second; then they burst into laughter.

"Fuck, you two are so screwed!" Collins shouted, shaking with giggles.

"Literally!" Maureen cackled. She rose and stumbled over to Collins, holding onto him for support. Mark and Roger stared at them in outrage.

"What?! This is not funny! Not fucking funny!" Mark shrieked, getting off the couch and stomping his feet. This only made them laugh harder. Roger solved the problem by throwing Mark's GameBoy at their heads: it missed by about half a foot, sailing over them and crashing into Joanne's collarbone as she, Mimi, and Angel entered the room.

"Fuck! Goddamn it, Roger, why the hell are you throwing stuff at me?!" Joanne snapped, rubbing her chest and ducking around the still-chuckling Maureen and Collins. Angel and Mimi, obviously under the impression that Mark and Roger were having another brawl, looked like they wanted to leave the way they had come.

"I didn't throw it at you, I threw it at them! Assholes…" Roger muttered, glaring at Collins and Maureen. The two of them had calmed down by now, though Maureen was still hiccupping a little. Mimi and Angel, still cautious, edged inside.

"What's going on, babe?" Mimi asked, sliding into Roger's lap and plucking the magazine out of his hands. Angel read it over her shoulder, and sighed when she was done.

"Oh, you poor, poor babies…"

"Need to hide…so much slash…need to hide!" Mark whined. The sight of the magazine article seemed to be driving him into a frenzy. This was proven true when Mark jumped off the couch, fell flat on the floor, and hid himself under the couch. They let him; if they tried to stop him, he'd probably bite.

"Oh, how sad. Mark and Roger have to be in even more fics, isn't that horrifying?" Joanne grumbled bitterly. Angel put a comforting arm around her.

"Well, honey, take it from the gay, positive, cross-dressing, and somewhat dead character…life can be pretty fucking complicated by itself, and being in a lot of fics does not actually help."

"Thanks, I feel so much better," Joanne mumbled sarcastically. Just then there was a knock on the door. Collins opened it and saw Glinda standing there. She was holding a pink fic slip.

"Um, they gave me a fic to pass along to you guys…it's something for Mark and Robert—"

"Roger," everyone corrected her. Glinda shrugged and handed Collins the slip before disappearing down the hall. He glanced at it and broke into a grin.

"Yes…yes…YES!" he crowed.

"No…no…NO!" Roger moaned, shoving Mimi off his lap and jumping up. He made a run for the door…

But the author caught him.


	10. Closings And Consolations

Here it is, the chapter about closings. Written over several weeks, so be nice por favor (I would say please in French, but it's hard to spell without accents). And I am not so happy write (accidentally wrote it that way, honest...hah) now, so angst fics might be coming. Hope not, though, for our poor dears would not like that, now would they?

* * *

"So that's it. We're closing."

"Yeah…we're really closing."

"Wow…we're _closing_."

The RENT fanfic characters were spread around their dressing room in a state of light shock. Angel, Maureen, and Roger were sitting on the couch, staring into space. Collins and Mimi were sitting on the ground near them, also staring into space. Joanne and Mark were the only two not staring into space; they were, instead, staring at the new digital clock on the wall. It showed every time unit from seconds to months, and it was steadily counting down. Every time the minutes changed, it made a little _eep_ noise. Everyone in the room would flinch at the _eep._

Benny was crouching in the corner, playing with his dolls. No one cared.

"Wait…so now what do we do?" Mimi asked, her eyes glazed. Maureen shook her head slowly.

"Will they keep writing fanfictions? Will…will they forget us? Oh my god, they're going to forget us, oh my god, oh my god…" Maureen gasped, beginning to hyperventilate. Roger rose out of his reverie enough to smack her on the back of her head and shut her up.

"No, Maureen…they will not stop. In fact, I think that they will begin to write more. So…many…more," Collins breathed. For a moment, the RENT group considered this.

"More slash…"

"More fluff…"

"More Mary Sues…"

"More crossovers…"

"More cano—wait, no one writes canon anyway," Joanne corrected herself. Angel blinked and surfaced a little.

"I'm going to have to die again…and again…and again…_even more_," she whispered, her eyes widening. Roger put his arm around her, and Maureen squeezed her hand in consolation.

A sudden knock on the door made them all jump. Twitching a little, Mark went to open the door. They found Elphaba, Princeton, Wendla, Elle, and Tracy Turnblad all standing behind it, looking a little nervous. Wendla was holding a large greeting card, and Elphaba was clutching a plastic baggie with cupcakes in it.

"Um…we wanted to…uh, say sorry to—you—guys," stuttered Princeton, his puppet hands wringing worriedly. Elle brushed back her hair and cocked her head sympathetically.

"Like, yeah. We all heard about the, you know…the thingie," she said squeakily. Tracey elbowed her and then poked Wendla in the arm. Wendla jumped and, remembering what she was supposed to do, held out the card.

This is from all of us…to give you some support," she mumbled. Mark silently took the card. Elphaba hurriedly offered the cupcakes, as though eager to be rid of them.

"We made these for you. Actually, it was mostly Kate and Moritz, but they had to be in fics, so this is from them too. And…well, we're really sorry, guys. This sucks," she said assertively, glancing in at Maureen. Maureen gave her a small nod of acceptance.

"And we wanted to make sure you know that even though _we're_ not closing, twelve years is really cool for the old ones like you, and—OW!" Elle screeched, Tracey having just stomped on her little high-heeled foot.

"What she means is, um…you guys are like our inspiration and…stuff. So, sorry," Wendla said hurriedly, backing out of the doorway. The others followed her, but Elphaba lingered for a second. She gazed sympathetically at the RENT folks, and shrugged slightly.

"I really am sorry, guys. I get that it—well, it's just a tough thing to deal with. So if you guys need any help or anything…I'm here for you. So're the rest of us…'cept Fiyero, because he's a douchebag and passed out after doing wine shots with Jesus, but you get my point," she said, rolling her eyes. Maureen nodded again, and the others mumbled their thanks. Elphaba nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind her. Mark turned around slowly, looking a little nauseous. No one could bring themselves to speak for a moment or two. Then Roger spoke in a wavering voice.

"They…they made us…_cupcakes?_"

"Dude, we're getting cupcakes from puppets. We have officially become the most pathetic group of losers on the planet," said Collins in disgust. Mimi laid a hand on his arm.

"In other words, rock-bottom?"

"I think we hit that at the first MarkRoger slash fic," Joanne said dryly, taking the greeting card from Mark. Mark sighed and threw the cupcakes at Roger, who shrugged and started to devour them. Joanne rolled her eyes and opened the card.

"'You didn't have it coming, signed Roxy Hart…it's the circle of life, signed Rafiki…you roll the dice and you lose sometimes, sorry, signed Nathan Detroit…life's not all milk and cream, the CATS team…at least you're not pastry, signed Sweeney Todd…let the music in your soul show you the way, Raoul and Christine'…oh god, that's pathetic."

"Who wrote that last one?" Angel asked, frowning. Joanne rolled her eyes.

"That last one was me. We're even getting false consolation from the musicals who've already gone off Broadway, I mean _come_ _on_. Guys & Dolls? They're like the ancient mariners of—oh my fucking god, wait a second. 'At least you had a good run, you schmucks, be grateful, signed…Teyve.' We have indeed hit rock-bottom; the Fiddlers are giving us condolences."

"You call that condolences? I call that a heaping pile of Jewish guilt, and Roger, eat without getting crumbs everywhere or don't eat at all," Maureen snapped, elbowing Roger. He glanced up, mumbled an apology, and resumed scarfing down cupcakes.

"Well, at least they cared enough to send a card," said Angel in a weak attempt at cheerfulness. No one answered her, because there was really nothing to say.

They were closing.

They were really closing.

And they got out of it was a card and the frosting that Roger was licking off the inside of the bag.

At her computer, the author started trying not to cry. She did this by listening to Hedwig and the Angry Inch. WHICH EVERYONE SHOULD DO, ESPECIALLY IF THEY LOVE RENT. BECAUSE IT IS COOL.

And then everyone finger-shamed her for product placement, so she shut up.

Until the actual crying started...

* * *

A vicious cycle indeed. Hey, head over to Your First Time, a fic of mine, when you're done with this...I'm about to post a new announcement and even if you don't read the fic or haven't sent anything in, please read anyway! Love to all!


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